


take me (home)

by stickynoted



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Angst??, M/M, more hurt/comfort, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7326907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickynoted/pseuds/stickynoted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feelings of sentiment and nostalgia settles itself upon Chittaphon’s chest and slowly takes the air from his lungs. Things have changed a lot since those days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me (home)

**Author's Note:**

> for my babygirl who is like my baby sister (@exoncts)
> 
> haven't written angst in a long ass time, and have nEVER written yuten before so hopefully this is okay?
> 
> i highly appreciate comments and kudos! [sparkle emojis]

Chittaphon unlocks the front door of their dorm a little past 1AM, bag dragging behind him. As he takes his sneakers off, he tries to be as quiet as possible, knowing that the others would be asleep at this point in the night. Training for the others supposedly ended at 10PM; their schedules as NCT U also ended around the same time, Yoonoh and Minhyung pretty much asleep as soon as they got back in the van meant to take them back to the dorms. Compared to him, Chittaphon’s members have had at least a two-hour head-start on their sleep.

Chittaphon spots Hansol’s light brown hair peeking up from a blanket over the couch as he pads by the living room - he tried to stay up for Chittaphon despite the younger’s endless texts of “never mind”s and “i can take care of it, hyung”s. He knew his excuses would be ignored anyway - Hansol, being one of the eldest members, had it ingrained in him that he was to look out for them as much as he could. He was in charge of waking up the members for schedules and also for waiting up for them as they got back from their days. More so now that Taeil had debuted and was busier than usual.

Breaking the quiet, a door creaks open and a bleary-eyed Donghyuck appears in the hallway. Donghyuck startles at the sight of him but waves when he realizes it’s just Chittaphon.

“Hyung, you’re back,” he mumbles, rubbing his pillow-creased cheek. Chittaphon smiles before petting his head.

“Thirsty?” Chittaphon asks, even though he knows the answer. Donghyuck had a habit of getting up at random points in the night to drink water, something he’s done since he was younger. Normally, he’d keep a few bottles of water by his bed but Chittaphon guesses he either ran out or Jaemin stole them and took them to dance practice.

Donghyuck nods in reply before moving to the fridge to pull out a Pikachu water bottle - Jaemin’s, which confirms Chittaphon’s earlier assumption. “Sleep soon, hyung. You should rest too,” Donghyuck says, placing the bottle back in its place after taking a rather large gulp from it.

“I will. I’ll just shower first.” Chittaphon gets a quiet “okay” and a quick hug out of Donghyuck before the younger disappears back in his room. He sighs, exhaustion seeping into his joints as he opens the door to his own room. Taeil’s got his leg hanging off his bed frame, face smushed into his pillow, grey hair thoroughly mussed. Hansol’s bed is missing a pillow and blanket that he undoubtedly took with him to the living room while waiting for Chittaphon. Chittaphon makes his way to the bathroom without making too much noise, taking a new set of clothes with him.

He emerges from the shower ten minutes later, having scrubbed off all the grime and sweat on his body, and changed into clean pajamas. There are pictures pasted on the walls of the hallways of them at different points in their lives: Disneyland trips; seeing cherry blossoms in Tokyo; performing during SMTOWNs; birthday surprises composed of shabby birthday cakes and off-key singing; pictures with Kun and Sicheng in China, Yuta in Japan, Chittaphon in Thailand, showing the other boys around the towns they called home - those were times when they were together and they were truly happy. When they could roam around without having to deal with too many camera flashes going off around them. When they could just be them, teenage boys who could enjoy life and all its offerings.

Among the photos that catches Chittaphon’s eye is a picture of him and Yuta on the streets of Taiwan, the same day they shot the video of Yuta acting like a reporter for the group. It’s a candid shot Dongyoung took when he was fiddling around with the controls of his camera but it turned out beautiful: Chittaphon’s smile wide and Yuta on the side, eyes trained on Chittaphon’s profile. Chittaphon traces the print with his fingertips, remembering how that day was. The weather was perfect for strolling around the new city, not too hot but not extremely chilly either. They were taking pictures of the scenery, pointing out random things and Yuta enthusiastically going “this is Taipei!” much to Hansol’s amusement. It was a good day full of happy memories, roaming around the foreign city, youth emanating from their smiles.

The feelings of sentiment and nostalgia settles itself upon Chittaphon’s chest and slowly takes the air from his lungs. Things have changed a lot since those days; their schedules are much busier now, free days dedicated to adding more practice in or language lessons; the younger boys are juggling schooling and their careers. Chittaphon would be lying if he said that the thought of Hansol, Youngho, and Yuta still being considered trainees didn’t bother him at all. He thought about that often during schedules and he knew the others did too - Minhyung and Taeil especially; Youngho who was Minhyung’s older brother figure whom he relied on the most, and Hansol who is the only member Taeil’s age and shared most of the responsibilities that came with being the eldest of the boys. Sure, Minhyung now had the other five of them around almost all the time, and Taeil had Taeyong who was more than willing to help Taeil out, but nothing could equate the bond they had with the others.

“It’s 2AM.” A voice brings Chittaphon out of his thoughts and face to face wth a pajama-clad Yuta, looking more awake than he should be.

Chittaphon shrugs, “Just got out of the shower and got a little caught up, I guess,” he gets a nod in response. He can tell Yuta hasn’t slept, the bags under his eyes a little more prominent than before. “Can’t sleep?”

Yuta smiles and Chittaphon can sense the sadness in Yuta’s body; how his smile didn’t meet his eyes. There was fatigue, and frustration swimming across his features and the pain in Chittaphon’s chest just grows exponentially.

“You know me so well,” Yuta muses, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He slips a hand out to reach for Chittaphon who meets him halfway, fingers slipping in to fill gaps and spaces.

“Come to bed,” Yuta says with a subtle tug and Chittaphon follows, never one for disobeying a request from him.

They move into Chittaphon’s room, Yuta’s shared room with Taeyong out of the question since Taeyong is arguably the lightest sleeper known to mankind. Taeil is dead to the world as they shuffle by quietly, socked feet sliding against wood varnish.

“I’ve missed you” are the first words out of Yuta’s mouth when they get into bed, fingers finding solace in the dips of hipbones and valleys of ribs. Their ankles are fitted to each other, their legs tangle until it’s difficult to tell where Yuta begins and Chittaphon ends. Yuta’s fingers travel from dancing along Chittaphon’s waist to up his chin, and come to rest at the back of his neck, rubbing softly at the skin and hair that’s there. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I miss waking up to Hansol hyung’s voice over Taeyong hyung’s nagging,” Chittaphon’s eyes are glazed with wear and so many emotions as he begins to speak. “I miss Youngho hyung teasing me about my facial expressions during practice. I miss having to watch over the kids and keep Jaemin and Donghyuck from potentially murdering one another.” Yuta smiles because it’s never been an easy job – he would know, that’s his job now.

“But I miss you more,” Chittaphon sighs, his exhale warm against Yuta’s cheek. “I miss seeing you during practices, during breaks when I can lean on you even though you hate it because I’m sweaty. I miss breaking diets with you, because Yoonoh’s no fun and Minhyung’s too young,” Yuta exhales a soft laugh, fingers tracing the lines and veins on Chittaphon’s neck.

“I miss how when I dance around the practice room while you’re lying on the floor, you’ll hold my ankle to get me either stop or not step on you. I miss being around you, and the others, and I know this was my dream,” Chittaphon’s rambling now, the pain in his chest turning into tears and words he needs to get out before he chokes on them and suffocates himself. “But I miss the easier days when things were like the pictures on that wall.”

“And just,” Chittaphon has to take a breath because he’s crying and the pain hasn’t completely left but it has subsided a little. “I miss us.”

Yuta listens as Chittaphon speaks, only moving after Chittaphon falls silent, blinking tears off his lashes. He wipes away the drops with the pad of his thumb, abandoning the patterns he was tracing on his neck.

“I miss us too,” Yuta begins, choosing his words carefully. “I miss getting to walk around Seoul with you and not have to think too much about disguising ourselves because a cap and mask would be enough. I miss waking up and see you still in your room, missing a sock and blanket half off you because you’re a messy sleeper.”

Yuta runs a hand through Chittaphon’s damp hair and Chittaphon leans into the touch like a cat leans into a pet. “I miss being able to kiss you,” he punctuates this with a brush of his lips to Chittaphon’s forehead, “hold your hands,” to his knuckles, “leave marks when and where I want,” he leans in to nip lightly at his neck, “just to hold and have you to myself.”

Chittaphon sniffles before pressing himself closer to Yuta, obliterating whatever space they left unfilled. Their lips touch softly, hands at hips and under chins, no heat or tension flowing through them because it’s too early for that and they’re too worn for that. So they settle with just kissing until oxygen becomes necessary again and they pull away - but not too far, foreheads still close enough that they can breathe each other in and fill their senses with the sight, sound, feel, scent of the other.

“Go to sleep,” Yuta whispers, resting his cheek on the top of Chittaphon’s head, arms secure around his waist. Chittaphon only hums in response, settling himself closer into the warmth of Yuta’s body.

“I love you,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to an exposed collarbone. Yuta nuzzles his head in return, a silent “I love you too” because he’s better with actions than with words.

Chittaphon falls asleep slowly, all the ache in his chest gone, replaced with warmth and affection and the sound of Yuta’s breathing lulls him to dreams where he is on stage with his boys - all fifteen of them - and he has Yuta’s hand clasped firmly in his.

They both sleep well that night, wrapped up in blankets and one another.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on twitter i need friends lmao @ sproutshua


End file.
